


This is a Love Letter in its Own Way

by novajanna



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Band Break Up, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-13
Updated: 2009-07-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:19:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10906746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novajanna/pseuds/novajanna
Summary: The last picture Jon slips into the album is one they took before officially going their separate ways. It’s a terrible photo in every regard: Brendon’s laughing so hard that his eyes are closed, Spencer’s turned away from the camera, Ryan is rolling his eyes and Jon is still sliding into his place on the couch, not quite fast enough to beat the timer.





	This is a Love Letter in its Own Way

  
Brendon decided to go for a walk maybe three hours ago, but he’s been sitting on the beach and running sand through his fingers for a good two hours, twenty minutes. With his head cocked to the side, he can watch the muscles in his arm flex and shift under the tattoos, under the piano and the flowers and the newer ones: Ryan’s favourite surf green '57 Fender Stratocaster, Jon’s white Fender Jazz, and a blue snare drum for Spencer. Brendon doesn’t really care how cheesy they are, because music is important and his band is important.

Well, what was once his band. What was his band when he got the tattoos done, something for each of them. Ryan had snorted when he saw them and said, “Wow, nice subtlety, Brendon.” Spencer had rolled his eyes fondly and traced a finger across the drum, and Jon had laughed a little and snapped a few pictures, for posterity’s sake.  
  
When Spencer finds Brendon a half hour later, the sun’s starting to set, and Brendon’s still staring dazedly at his arm, the way the colours change in the light. “I always wondered about those tattoos,” Spencer says, and Brendon tilts his head back to peer up at him.

“Why?”

“You already had the piano keys, for music. More instruments just seemed...unnecessary?” Spencer’s staring straight out at the ocean, but his tone isn’t disapproving, just curious.

“They aren’t just music, though. They’re you guys.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, a syllable in a sigh.

Brendon rolls over just enough to poke Spencer in the stomach. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer replies after a moment, and then he flashes a lightning-quick grin at Brendon. “You’re a sap, you know that?”

“Like you aren’t crying every night about losing Ryan,” Brendon replies, and he’s not at all prepared for the tickle attack Spencer stages in retaliation.

After a short tussle, Spencer sprawls next to Brendon and says, “I didn’t lose him, you dick.”

Brendon stares at the guitar on his arm and then over at Spencer, who’s looking at him with wide blue eyes. “No,” Brendon replies, “I know. They’re not lost at all.”

***

Jon has a photo album of pictures that he, somewhat selfishly, has kept just for himself. Most of them are ones he took, pictures of Brendon and Spencer and Ryan from a thousand different angles, in a thousand different places. He’s been slowly adding to it over the years without every really knowing why, but he’s never flipped through it in full before.

It’s a night when Ryan’s out, and Jon sits on his bed in a loose white t-shirt and sweatpants and starts at the very beginning. It’s fascinating to see how his perspective has changed so much over the years, how his camera captured the getting-to-know-you stage and the final goodbyes, plus everything in between. It’s a strange mix of goofy group shots and quiet, solitary moments, and Jon has immediate favourites.

The one of Ryan has him leaning against a sign next to an old gas station, presumably waiting for Brendon to return with snacks. Jon had probably just stepped out of the bus behind him and felt compelled to take the picture, because Ryan is silhouetted perfectly against the orange sunset, his long shadow falling across the glinting wheat fields stretching out in front of him. He’s so dark that it should be impossible to tell what he’s wearing, but Jon knows which hat it is from the angle it sits at on Ryan’s head, and which shirt it is from how loose it is on him, and how the left sleeve has fallen down while the right is still rolled up.

His favourite photo of Spencer is just a close-up, Spencer half-turned towards the camera, half-looking at someone just out of the shot. He’s grinning wide, just starting to laugh, and Jon thinks probably Brendon and Ryan were just out of frame, being ridiculous. Jon likes the picture in part because it’s such a great candid, especially since Spencer doesn’t usually let people that close to photograph him, but also because Jon’s always found Spencer’s smile a little breathtaking.

The best picture of Brendon is a quiet moment. Brendon’s tucked up in one corner of the couch on the bus, wearing pyjama pants and a worn old t-shirt. His glasses are perched on the edge of his nose and he’s clearly concentrating very hard. He looks almost vulnerable, curled in on himself like it’s a defensive position, and Jon thinks it may have been taken at a time when they were fighting. It’s not an amazing shot in terms of photographic merit, but Jon likes to know that he took a picture of Brendon looking that fragile and Brendon didn’t even glance up.

The last picture Jon slips into the album is one they took before officially going their separate ways. It’s a terrible photo in every regard: Brendon’s laughing so hard that his eyes are closed, Spencer’s turned away from the camera, Ryan is rolling his eyes and Jon is still sliding into his place on the couch, not quite fast enough to beat the timer. Still, though, Jon thinks it’s an incredibly accurate portrayal of the four of them. He doesn’t linger too long on it – on the way the sun’s hitting Spencer’s hair, the happiness crinkling the corner’s of Brendon’s eyes, Ryan’s collarbones jutting out from the v in his shirt, the way the four of them are all on top of each other, pressed close – and closes the book, slipping it under his bed and padding out of the room.

***

Spencer kind of hates the way his footsteps echo through the empty house. It was big even for the four of them, he knew that when he bought it, but now, with just him and Brendon, the emptiness feels overwhelming.

He stops in the doorway of Brendon’s music room – different than the practice space the four of them shared – and sits down heavily at the grand piano in the center of the room. Spencer lazily plays ‘Chopsticks’ and then gives up, staring out the big bay windows to the ocean. One of the reasons he picked the house in the first place was because of the view, because he knew it would be inspiring to all four of them. When he’d decided he was going to buy a surprise house for them to live in, he’d known he wanted something near the water, with enough room that they could have their own space to escape from each other from time to time.

Ryan’s study has floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that Spencer had stocked with every classic and cult classic and random book he’d been able to find. They were so high that a ladder was necessary, one of the rolling ones, and Ryan had been utterly captivated by it from the moment he’d entered the room. There were four large antique arm chairs and one long sofa, plus a window seat. Spencer had made sure everything was appropriately furnished to Ryan’s delicate sensibilities before moving them into the house.

Jon’s dark room was a converted storage space, because it was the only room without any windows. Spencer had enlisted Tom’s help in getting all the necessary equipment, and had pointedly ignored Tom’s teasing remarks about harmonious households and wives. When Jon had discovered the room, he’d given Spencer a huge hug and grinned like crazy for the rest of the day.

The top floor of the house - _their_ house – had approximately a million bedrooms, but only one that really got used very often. It was high-ceilinged with a huge four poster bed and gorgeous hardwood floors. Spencer had hoped, at first, that it would be his, but he’d been more than happy to share it when the time came.

***

Somewhere along the way, somewhere between the cabin and touring and photo shoots and touring and Keltie and touring, Ryan wrote an album. A cohesive album, spread across a dozen notebooks and random scraps of paper and roughly three computers, and he surprises himself by putting it together now, of all times. He spreads everything out across the floor in his room, the room of the house he’s sharing with Jon (and only Jon) and knows exactly what the song order should be. He’s surprisingly confident about it, actually, for something he’s never going to be able to perform or produce, even in rough copy.

What he has is fourteen songs about being in love with his band; songs about pining, songs about desire, songs about happiness, songs about comfort and familiarity. There’s an obvious story there, and Ryan thinks he may have written his first and last love letter.

When Jon comes home and finds him still sorting through papers, he says, “Oh, new music?” with an innocent curiosity.

Ryan just shakes his head and starts pulling everything into a pile, to tie together and stick in a shoebox to be long forgotten. “No,” he replies, “old music.”  


**Author's Note:**

> \-- Archiving all my old LJ fic --


End file.
